


French Braid

by kadotoriku



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Braids, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hair, Hair Braiding, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Smell, TasteofSmut 2020, Touch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:34:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25274740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadotoriku/pseuds/kadotoriku
Summary: A nice, relaxing, and lazy day in the Gryffindor dormitory leads into a bonding session over hair.
Relationships: Sirius Black & Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Lily Evans Potter (implied)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35
Collections: Taste of Smut Fest





	French Braid

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was _A loves B's hair, how soft and silky it feels, and how good it smells. Every time they meet, A always seems to have a new hair accessory for B._ The senses are smell and touch. I've also fulfilled the special request of _A braiding B's hair._

Curled up on his favorite armchair in front of the fireplace, Sirius leisurely flips through one of the many Muggle magazines sent by his beloved Uncle Alphard.

There’s no other way he’d like to spend the weekend, considering that James is practicing at the Quidditch Pitch, Remus is doing responsible stuff in the library, and Peter is sleeping in their dormitory like a dead log. Sirius brings his fluffy red-and-gold blanket closer around his shoulders, taking the time to appreciate the picture of the ‘automobile’—the _car_ that takes up an entire spread.

He tries picturing himself inside one, driving along the countryside like one of the smiling men in the adverts. Cars make traveling a lot faster for groups of Muggles at a time, but he honestly finds them too bulky and too big for his taste. Maybe Muggles have a smaller and more compact version of their cars for one singular person, their own version of a broom. Now _that_ is something Sirius would like to have for himself.

Stretching his legs, he lets out a small yawn. All his homework’s done and all his notes have been organized already. Peter might actually be onto something, and Sirius should just sleep the day away. Pranking and causing chaos is fun and all, but sometimes a lazy day is an absolute _must_ for a breath of fresh air.

He puts down his magazine, biting on his lip and trying to discern if he’s hungry or not. If he decides to go to the kitchens or hunt down one of his dormmates’ not-so-hidden stash of sweets, then that would mean getting up from his _very_ comfortable spot...

After a second of contemplation, Sirius decides to keep staring at the pretty red-orange flames until he falls asleep.

Leaning back against the plush armchair, he crosses his ankles and closes his eyes. A bit of light peaks through his eyelids, though it’s not the blinding kind. The fireplace soothes him with its scent of fresh oak firewood and its sounds of crackling fire that mingles with the soft murmuring of the nearby upper-years huddled over a table. Goose bumps break out on his skin as he shivers, not just from the cold breeze but also from the tingling feeling he’s getting from the background noise around him.

Sirius rests his left cheek on his knuckles and uses his right hand to fiddle with his wand holstered on his side. It’s an ingrained habit that makes a knot loosen in his stomach and a pleasant feeling of safety blossom in his chest.

For a while, he does nothing but sit there in his blanket cocoon.

He shifts a bit, stretching his back to loosen a few knots. A slow, languid yawn escapes his lips.

Barely a few minutes after he’s found a comfortable position, the light tapping of approaching footsteps catches his attention. Someone rummages through the long couch in front of him, murmuring the Summoning Charm like a prayer.

Curiosity piqued and perhaps because he’s a bit too nosy for his own good, Sirius trades sleep in for slowly opening his eyes. He blinks groggily, flexing his shoulders to shake off his sleepiness.

“Lily.” The girl in question snaps her head to where Sirius is sitting. “What’re you tearing apart the poor couch for? Lost an inkpot in its cracks?”

Turning around from where she’s standing over the couch with her wand pointed at it, Lily Evans shakes her head. “Hi, Sirius. I’m sorry for waking you up... I _know_ that I left one of my hair ties here somewhere, it just doesn’t want to come out.” She runs a hand through her bright loose hair.

“I can lend you one,” he offers.

“Oh, no! I’m sorry to disturb you. You don’t need to...”

Sirius pats down the pockets of his trousers and fishes out one of his many silver ties. “It’s nothing,” he dismisses as he holds it out towards her. “I’ve still got plenty on me. Plus, I know the feeling when your hair gets flies or stuck everywhere.”

Reluctantly, Lily reaches for and accepts it with a sincere, “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Sirius replies.

Sitting on the couch, she picks up her comb from the table and brushes her fiery hair with it. Long red strands cascade down her back like a waterfall flowing from the River Phlegethon. Sirius watches, fascinated with the way it practically _glows_ in the light emitted by the fire and the chandeliers overhead.

He twists strands of his own dark hair, fingers itching.

“...Do you mind if I braid your hair?” Sirius finds himself asking.

She glances at his direction, a frown on her lips. “I already woke you up... You should go back to sleep.”

“I’ve got nothing better to do.” He shrugs good-naturedly and gets up to relocate himself onto the couch. He folds his blanket and leaves it on the armchair. Lily moves to the left, facing the wall and turning her hair towards him. She hands over her hairbrush, which Sirius uses to untangle parts of her hair.

“...If you’re sure,” Lily says belatedly, tilting her head backwards. “Have you done this before? I don’t think I’ve seen you in braids.”

“I prefer braiding small sections of my hair—it’s not _super_ visible unless you look carefully.” His hair isn’t long enough for a long, magnificent styling, and he rather likes the wind blowing at him.

Buns are another favorite of his too; he likes to hold his wand in them.

(And when he has to draw his wand and gets the golden opportunity to dramatically flip his hair in a flourish as he wipes the floor with his enemies? The best part.)

Putting the comb down, he cards his fingers through Lily’s hair and gathers strands from either side of her head. The scent of something flowery reaches his nose, and he vaguely guesses it to be lavender. It’s not strong to the point of overwhelming, just enough to be pleasant to whoever catches a wisp of it. “Your hair is so soft,” Sirius compliments, “and smells _fantastic_. What shampoo do you use?”

“Thank you,” she says gratefully. “I use a Muggle brand. Prefer it over the wizarding ones I tried out, including that, ah, Sleekeazy’s Potion? It’s tedious and pricier to put on every day.”

“Mind if I try some of what you’re using?” Then, Sirius’s lips arch upward. “Also, did you know that it’s James’s _father_ that invented Sleekeazy’s formula? He gets embarrassed if you bring it up.”

“ _Really_? Potter, look-at-my-horrendous-mop-of-hair Potter’s _dad_ created it?” Lily sounds surprised before adding, “And sure, I think I have a spare bottle or two in my trunk.”

Even though she can’t see him, Sirius nods enthusiastically. “Really! I personally think the Potter mane is too strong, even for the potion, but he hexes me when I try to bring it up.” He intertwines the three large groups of Lily’s hair together, marveling at their softness under his fingers.

She scoffs. “Doesn’t he always style his hair so it looks windswept?”

“Says it’s how he attracts all the ladies and gents,” Sirius remarks dryly.

They banter a bit more, before falling into a comfortable silence broken only by the background noise of the fireplace and the occasional outsider’s whisper. Lily hums to herself a song Sirius has never heard of while he concentrates on tightening the ongoing braid and collecting stray strands. He gets washed up in a rhythm of _over-under-switch-over-under-switch_. His fingers meticulously weave through her silky red curls, and he narrows his eyes in concentration to make sure the plait comes out as neat as possible.

Sirius shifts in place, legs a bit numb from him maintaining the position. Maybe Lily could use an accessory or two, he thinks to himself, a headband or a clip. Two things that Sirius has a few of in his trunk and more back at the family house. He has plenty of accessories left unused because they’re not up to his tastes or aren’t up to his style. Better to let them be worn by someone else than left in the dusty closets of Grimmauld Place. Regulus prefers to wear necklaces and bracelets, anyway.

“Tie, please.” Lily gives him the silver hair tie he gave her earlier, and Sirius wraps it around the end of the braid. He secures it neatly, smiling proudly to himself at his handiwork.

Clasping his hands together, he proclaims, “Aaand we’re done!”

Lily reaches to feel the plait, running her fingers from its top to bottom. She lets out a noise of surprise and brings the braid over her shoulder to look at it properly.

“It’s _amazing_ , Sirius. Thank you,” she says, making his cheeks heat up at the praise. “Do you have a mirror?”

“I do.” _And_ he has a few pins that might look great on her. “Wait here!”

At her nod of agreement, he runs up to his dorm, careful when opening the door when he catches Peter asleep and Remus reading at a novel with a wounded expression. Another one of his angsty tragic romances, no doubt. Sirius marches over to his bedside table. He takes a handheld mirror and what he needs from his jewelry box before silently darting out of the room.

Jumping off of the last few steps, he leaps with the strength and grace of a lion. Lily sits patiently from her spot on the couch, fiddling with her braid and touching the back part of her head in silent awe.

Sirius walks towards her front. “Hold still,” he requests as he clips the hairpin onto her fringe to hold back the strands that didn’t quite make the braid due to their short length. Stepping back to revel in his finished work, he hands her the mirror with a triumphant grin.

“ _Voilà_! What do you think?”

Lily’s eyes are wide, turning her head from side to side to look at her head from different angles. The hairpin is a milky white star with smaller ones trailing behind it in a sort of made-up constellation. It sparkles and fits perfectly on her hair. “This is incredible—I look like a fairytale princess! Next time, I should plait _your_ hair.”

“Next time, I’ll have my full stash of accessories with me,” he promises and makes a mental note to send an owl his mother—or, rather, ask _Regulus_ to do it since Walburga’s less likely to hex the return package with something nasty.

“When do you want this back?” Lily gestures to the hairpin.

“You don’t have to return it. Not like anyone _else_ is going to use it. My cousins are either loaded with piles of their own or don’t care much for hair embellishments.” Sirius plops down next to her with a shrug, massaging and flexing his tired fingers.

“I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: Thank you, Sirius,” she gently rests a hand on his thigh.

Sirius smiles at her, not the mischievous and shit-eating one used for when he’s causing mayhem, but a genuine, soft, and happy one.

“Anytime, Lily.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sirius/Lily here can be taken as platonic or romantic—I wrote it with romantic intentions in mind, but my inner Gen-writer came out so... oops, my bad? I hope you enjoyed reading, nonetheless!
> 
> Thank you to my friend, Ji, for reading over this. And thank you to the mods for hosting this fic fest! My first ever work/entry for one and I'm happy with how it turned out. :)
> 
> * * *
> 
> 💋 This work is part of the Taste of Smut Fest, a Harry Potter-centered fest dedicated to the five senses: taste, touch, smell, hearing, and sight. 
> 
> If you’ve enjoyed this work, please do shower our content creators with kudos and comments! 💌
> 
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